Walking west, through the sister-park of Golden Gate Park, headed toward the ocean's shore (where I often walk with my better half of twenty years), I thought of the heartwarming posts about where to find The Way of the Pilgrim and The Pilgrim Continues His Way. As for myself: Of all places, it was in Hollywood, CA, c. 1971, at the Vedanta Bookshop adjacent to The Temple. As fate would have it, while browsing and amassing a stack of books much larger than my wallet--including a paperback volume of the Pilgrim books--, the ancient swami walked through the shop. (He was, among others, Christopher Isherwood's swami, and Isherwood wrote a book about him titled, I think, My Guru.) What a treat to see him (granted, not Swami Vivekananda on the busy streets of Calcutta as all you Hapworth readers know--but if I am not mistaken, Swami V. at the end of his life did initiate the old man I saw before me as a very young boy) and offer a namaste in his direction. Frederick just peered over my shoulder and demanded, since the computer is now off limits to him, that I add: He, Frederick, once almost found the Pilgrim books in their *pea-green* editions. They were, of all places, in DeKalb, Illinois. As he was standing at a bin of books, a woman next to him took them into her hands just as the titles caught his eye. regards to all, Bruce -----Original Message----- From: Cecilia A. Baader <cbaader@my-Deja.com> To: bananafish@lists.nyu.edu <bananafish@lists.nyu.edu> Date: Friday, October 15, 1999 2:59 PM Subject: Re: a signature question >Frederick/Bruce, > >I thought it was a neat idea this posting of age/location/occupation, as I naturally get to wondering about bananafishes' biographies. You get these pictures of people in your head, mentally deciding their age, hair color, etc., from the little clues that they leave throughout their myriad posts. I've got this brilliant little picture in my head of certain people, each person slowly fleshed out, post by post. > >For instance, I was able to glean that citycabn was from New England before I ever figured out that his name was Bruce, you notable unsigned poster. I've got this picture of you in my head, typing away in a dusty room in an isolated log cabin in Connecticut. (My original guess had been New Hampshire.) Frederick with his head full of blue-striped unicorns creeps out of his room every so often and takes over the computer for a post or two until he's shooed away. I secretly grin when poor Frederick appears with his collection of grasshoppers and frogs peeking from the pockets of his dungarees. And that's just my image of you, Bruce, who really need never be [edited for brevity], except when my own post is exceptionally long... how fun it is not to really know. And (not-so-secretly) I hope that I'm way off, so that the game can continue. > >Regards, >Cecilia. >--- >On Thu, 14 Oct 1999 08:27:38 citycabn wrote: >>Cecilia, >> >>Thanks for the "edited for brevity". Am in need of that. >> >>The young grasshopper Frederick has been sent to his room. The computer is >>now off-limits. (Actually, he's seven.) >> >>A wonderful sentence: "But alas, Iowa called and I had to commune with >>cornfields for a couple of weeks." >> >>--Bruce (actually forty-eight) >> >> > > >--== Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/ ==-- >Share what you know. Learn what you don't. >